


as if every moment is new

by liskarm



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bickering, Boys Will Be Boys (Dumb As Hell), Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, i would just like to say i enjoy punch as a song i simply love making fun of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 08:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liskarm/pseuds/liskarm
Summary: but then an odd thing happens. donghyuk, at a loss for words, sputters, eyes growing wild. even with his eyesight relatively okay, mark can’t begin to fathom what he’s seeing: donghyuk, sly little lee donghyuk, wholeheartedly flustered, cheeks colored a soft, candied red.in other words, cute. he looks cute. and mark begs to god that he can remember the moment for as long as he lives.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Kudos: 43





	as if every moment is new

routine is built in-between all the other parts of life, written in neat squares twelves months a year, stray sheets of paper, margins of a journal. often there are little surprises thrown in. dinner for two on a saturday evening, or perhaps a spontaneous walk through town in the dead of night; one could say it lives and changes much like people do, constantly adapting to time and circumstance. sometimes it is created unconsciously. sometimes because it must be. but regardless it is predisposed, the tendency to move with a schedule, crave structure, to stand still when it’s unattainable.

mark is no exception. the grandeur of becoming a public figure brought with it expectations only conceivable by someone naive, and he—having barely breached adolescence when boarding the flight to Seoul all those years ago—had fallen into the same rose-tinted dream as many others before him. he believed wholeheartedly in his desire for something different. something life-changing, like circles instead of squares. and his wish came true, in some sense, because the life mark leads in present day is nothing like what he envisioned before joining SM Entertainment as a Rookie.

but the thrill of performance, like every other thing associated with idolhood, is neatly packaged, put amongst piles and piles of boxes stacked against each other, a storage room roofed a mile high but with no air to breathe. squares disguised as circles, somehow. routine printed out on a sheet, signed at the bottom.

not to say that his job has deprived him of liberties. cancelled schedules are no different than cancelled classes, after all. paid days off and company-sponsored vacations are far and few in number, but are nevertheless a cornerstone of achievement; rest comes when it is deserved. eaten like a fruit, savoured until there’s nothing else left except the months between harvests.

the difference, he thinks, is that mark lee from toronto would be okay with a broken routine. this version of him doesn’t have half the workaholic mind of mark lee in seoul, the restlessness anchored in the pit of his stomach when filming wraps up early, or the urge to turn nothing into something even when he doesn’t have the strength for it. the twitch of his fingers when he thinks about playing his guitar is too similar with the one he feels when he thinks about his hand around a microphone, holding sheets of lyrics annotated to heaven and back, pressed together at the palms to say grace before eating ramyeon at some ungodly hour—and so he finds it annoyingly difficult to separate work from play and play from work. simply put: mark lee in his twenties doesn’t have the same knack for relaxation as mark in his tens.

such is the perpetual dilemma of his lifetime. today is the same; him and the rest of NCT 127 were let go from shooting a few hours early, a reward for their due diligence. most of them took the opportunity to head back to the dorms for the night. taeyong, on the other hand, had instead gone towards the studio, saying something about “finishing touches”. mark would have worried if not for the sight of doyoung trailing closely behind. so now he has more time on his hands than he needs, and that’s a problem.

on the way to his room, mark considers his options. he could do a lyric brainstorm for SuperM’s next album, or work on acoustic arrangements for the “unplugged collection” Dream is planning (as a joke, but mark is adamant that it’ll happen for real), or maybe even monitor today’s footage to prepare for tomorrow...

...which are all wonderful things to do, for sure. but life has a way of throwing bones you don’t expect, and tonight’s bone has sneaked its way into mark’s backyard while he wasn’t looking. someone’s singing behind the door, a full and silky melody; though muffled by wood walls, it’s loud enough for mark to discern who the culprit might be.

his heart races. the only person who he can think of is donghyuk, and if donghyuk is there then its likely that johnny probably crashed on the couch or something, out of courtesy. and if the two of them are the only ones in there, then…

 _relax,_ thinks mark. _it’s just donghyuk._

it’s just donghyuk. they’ve been Alone In A Room more times than he can count on his two hands and feet, ever since they were, roughly speaking, twelve—yet the mere thought of what will happen when he walks in is daunting. gut-wrenching, even. mark knows why.

there’s not much he can really do about it, to his constant dismay. going elsewhere will only raise questions, and kicking donghyuk out will only start something unnecessary. it’s not like he loathes his company either. despite the nervousness tickling every nerve in his body, he likes it.

he likes donghyuk. likes him so much that he can barely hold it together when they’re in close proximity, or even separated by a wall like this; and that is the dilemma of tonight, today, of all time.

but anyways. as it stands, his only choice at the moment is to go in and try his best to not make a fool of himself. mark looks around for witnesses. upon seeing no one, he hops on his feet and rolls his shoulders, breathes like he’s about to enter the ring. imagines his door as one of the punching bags in the gym next building over. rather than fighting with it, mark opens the door.

beyond the threshold is indeed one lee donghyuck.

“y’know,” says mark, slowly. donghyuk, entranced by what sounds like the rough cut of the music video for their newest song, simply keeps an ear out for him. or that’s what he assumes—mark can’t tell with him sometimes. typical. “you have a bed. five floors down. which is a lot easier than going up five more.”

“sure,” replies donghyuk, certainly playing hard to get; his acknowledgement of mark’s presence is near non existent outside of verbal engagement. typical, typical. “it’s occupied. johnny hogged it before i could wiggle up in it.”

which is a lie. johnny isn’t the type to lounge on other people’s property without asking, and even if he did donghyuk could simply sleep in the other bed. the empty one. the one not reserved by a man five floors up, a corridor to the right and two doors, one desperate for a blink—nay, a wink—of sleep and maybe an hour of some kind of downtime beforehand.

but that’s beside the point. there are more important matters to deal with, after all, and the biggest one has the gall to not even bat an eye at him. typical, typical, typical.

“sure,” mark echoes, pointedly close to mocking. briefly he decides tomorrow morning’s order: a cappuccino, double espresso, to-go. “but most people...y’know...ask?”

donghyuk simply laughs in response, loud and careless, head thrown back against the headboard. the sound drowns out whatever last-decade machinery decided to invade the producer’s notes and spit out Punch. mark’s barely got half a mind to not swim in it too.

“oh, mark. markus. markie.” surprisingly donghyuk looks his way, and in the midst of his cooing turns his phone off and tosses it somewhere. “you think i’d ask you?”

sensing a downhill battle, mark sucks up the urge to roll his eyes and tell him what-for, settling for a sigh. he’s too tired for any back-and-forth tonight. the telltale ache in his shoulder blades leaves little room for argument, and as he closes the door from behind and makes his way to the middle of the room he can feel it bloom in his calves, his back, the heels of his feet. a blossom for every nerve and muscle in his body that moves to the count of eight.

(standard fare, really. they all already know how to deal with it, or at least try to look like they do. sweeping years and years of overwork and chronic pain is easier said than done, after all, but is nonetheless a requirement for the job. written in fine print as one says.)

donghyuk eyes him the whole time, suddenly attentive. mark looks everywhere else: at the floorboards, his guitar in the corner of the room, the neat little buttons on johnny’s launchpad. but he can still feel it, the subtlety of being watched, leagues different from the pervasiveness of a camera. it’s making him sweat a little. mark spares a look when he reaches the edge of his bed, and finds donghyuk already staring back at him.

“scoot over,” mark manages, gratingly casual.

donghyuk blinks in reply, and then holds a hand up when mark attempts to climb onto the mattress. “what’s the magic word?”

“the...huh?”

“the magic word, markie,” repeats donghyuk, exasperated. “don’t you know what it is?”

he doesn’t. in fact he’s certain that they don’t have anything like it. one of his games, mark thinks, a silly little prank. like with everything else donghyuk throws at him, though, there’s little else to do except oblige. but his brain refuses to think of anything feasible, much less entertaining. somehow this troll-under-the-bridge scenario is making him more stressed out than thinking about what his schedule for the rest of the night will be, which in itself means quite a bit.

so he says: “please?”

as if he’d known all along, donghyuk is already visibly disappointed by the time mark manages to spit out his answer.

“that was the saddest thing i’ve heard from you this week, mark lee,” he reprimands. “but i’ll let you off this time. i know it’s hard, but you’re gonna have to do a little pre-thinking for the next one.”

“so you’re giving me homework?”

“no, mark. i’m giving you initiative. there’s a difference.”

“yeah, yeah.” mark huffs. donghyuk doesn’t say anything after that. from here, mark can tell that he’s tired, too, with the way his eyes droop just a bit.

the bed is warm when he lumbers onto it. it’s a little annoying with how hot his body runs, and the thought of donghyuk enjoying the cool embrace of fresh territory on the other side ticks him right off—rather, would have, if exhaustion hadn't swept away his capacity to feel anger. on the other hand, it means that donghyuk had probably been waiting for longer than he thought. whatever that means.

he can feel donghyuk’s leg brush against his own from outside of the covers, as he adjusts his position to make himself more comfortable. mark’s mind runs at a mile a minute trying to ignore it. and as he attempts to look at something else mark ends up back where he started, following donghyuk’s partial silhouette as he moves, watches the collar of his shirt, red and white stripes a size too big, slip when the rest is caught under the weight of his motion. runs his sweat dry trying not to bury his head there and kiss him silly.

in theory, anyways. mark hasn’t gotten that far yet—there’s just no time for it. that’s his favorite excuse: being an idol equates to hardly any romance, and those who yearn for it are bound to phone numbers stuffed inside of sandwiches. minute long escapades to some random, out-of-the-way café you’d have to throw darts on a map for. or, if you’re lucky, a whisper of a kiss by the bathrooms.

circumstance is a powerful tool. for mark, it means he can stall for as long as he wants. one day, one week, one year. who knows? perhaps he’ll spend the rest of his career without knowing if his stupid little crush on one lee donghyuk is worth anything. but it’s okay. it’s fine! they’re fine, as friends. colleagues, business partners. teammates. it doesn’t matter what he wants. not in this lifetime.

the sound of donghyuk speaking to him draws mark away from the thought. he’s also met with a hand haphazardly waving in front of his face, which at some point comes dangerously close to his glasses.

“helloooo?” donghyuk waves a bit slower. “earth to mark?”

“hello,” mark blurts out in reply. he regrets it almost immediately, visibly grimacing at his own slip-up. so much for not making a fool of himself. but that was probably already long over-with.

“man, you’re, like, _tired_ tired,” notes donghyuk, though maybe more to himself than anything. he pulls out his phone from somewhere. “let’s keep it short for today then, for your poor little brain. i’ve got the rough cut for Punch we can react to. oh, but maybe we should get johnny in here for that, huh…”

“isn’t he,” mark pauses, a bit confused. “like. sleeping.”

donghyuk looks over at him for a moment, brows scrunched together. but then he begins to appear surprised, or perhaps caught off guard by something.

“oh, yeah. he is.”

the conversation lulls. donghyuk’s back to staring at his phone before mark can even say anything else, which leaves him more perplexed than before. did he say something? was this all some elaborate plan to get johnny to hang out with them more, and he’d just blown it all up? but that doesn’t make sense. johnny never says no when either of them ask.

“uhm, well. we can still watch it?”

donghyuk hovers his thumb over the play button. lets the screen go dark. and then, he says: “you know, you can kick me out if you want.”

“huh,” says mark, a bit thrown off now. nothing’s really making sense for him anymore. donghyuk simply sends him a look, as if he’d missed something obvious.

“you’re like, barely awake. if you need your beauty sleep we can just postpone or—”

“but,” interrupts mark, “if i kicked you out i wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways.”

“what,” replies donghyuk, who is now also confused.

mark is too occupied with trying to dig them out of this ditch to realize what he’s leading them towards. “if i kicked you out you’d get upset,” he explains, pace quickening as he goes, “and even if you’re, like, kidding, i’d still be like, oh, man, y’know what i mean? ‘cause i don’t, er. i don’t like it when you’re, y’know...”

 _it’s all over_ , mark thinks to himself, as donghyuk’s expression morphs into something so incredulous that it puts their time on Disney Channel to shame. suddenly he feels more awake than he has since he walked in. but also a bit faint. he’s said far too much for either of them to be comfortable with. he’s not even sure what his face might look like at the moment, as much as he's trying to not blow up in front of his equally dumb crush. work partner. bandmate that he is also stupidly in love with? perhaps he could just laugh it off. that’s what people do when faced with a misunderstanding, isn’t it? or, if that's not enough, mark has the option of withdrawing from SM Entertainment and moving back to canada; he could probably get away with it if he left before dawn. slip right through security and rent a bike to get to the airport. he’s got good legs. nice, thick calves. perfect for running—or biking, for that matter.

but then an odd thing happens. donghyuk, at a loss for words, sputters, eyes growing wild. even with his eyesight relatively okay, mark can’t begin to fathom what he’s seeing: donghyuk, sly little lee donghyuk, wholeheartedly flustered, cheeks colored a soft, candied red.

in other words, cute. he looks cute. and mark begs to god that he can remember the moment for as long as he lives.

donghyuk recuperates with record efficiency. with his phone still in his hands, he busies himself with opening up the video again. “god, mark! you’re so embarrassing. please don’t say anything ever again. forget i asked, or even, i don’t know. breathed.”

“...you wanted to know?”

“what’d i just say?” donghyuk sighs heavily. mark almost wants to apologize, but that would probably embarrass him even more. “jeez, markie. let’s just, here. Punch.”

afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he speaks, mark simply nods yes. donghyuk takes it without commentary, and, despite having rebuffed him just a moment ago, maintains standard Media Viewing Protocol and leans into him, blushed cheek light against his shoulder.

they watch Punch. only half of the post editing has been done, but its at least digestible. mark pays enough attention to give it a solid 8.5, just in case donghyuk feels like asking for a number today, though there’s enough reason to suggest otherwise. the two of them even talk about it while watching, their usual banter having miraculously rejuvenated; maybe johnny has some part in this after all.

but then another odd thing happens. the video stops just before it’s supposed to end, and when mark looks over to ask why donghyuk has preemptively met him in the middle again. mark waits this time. watches donghyuk open and close his mouth a few times, clearly thinking about what to say.

“you get stressed out,” he starts eventually, unusually stern, “when you have free time. which is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard. so i thought i’d harass you for a bit when we do. maybe i should have asked?”

absolutely astonishing. the mere suggestion of donghyuk thinking to asking for permission to hark on him is, before now, completely unheard of; a wish for the stars, or a fountain of pennies. if mark were told that all of these things would happen today, he wouldn’t believe it at all—and yet.

this is new territory. mark chooses his words carefully, or tries his best to, given the state of his cognitive abilities. “you never ask. and i’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses? but i don’t mind, really.”

 _i like it when you’re here,_ he thinks. keeps at the tip of his tongue. but he can’t. saying it would probably cross the imaginary chalk lines they’ve drawn around each other, and that couldn’t possibly lead them anywhere better. “and, uhm. i like having you around. for the movies.”

ah, but. mark is a little bit of a fool—enough of one to open his big mouth regardless. of course. anyone who’s watched him on variety would know.

donghyuk, warm cheeks and all, stares at him like he had just robbed the same store three times.

“you’re on a roll today. y’know that?”

“thanks?” in lieu of a proper reply, donghyuk tosses his phone onto the floor, invites himself into the blankets, and then practically drags mark down with him, going as far as to take his glasses off for him.

“hyuk,” questions mark, “why.”

“we,” donghyuk answers, “are going to bed. like good people. and when we wake up we’re going to have a nice laugh about today. okay?”

it dawns on him, then, that there isn’t much space between the two of them currently. donghyuk is so close that mark can actually make him out without having to squint, soft features cradled by the room’s warm light. when they were roommates they had beds pushed together. but right now it’s much different, with their noses nearly touching; the circumstances don’t exactly soothe him either. nonetheless, mark tries his best to steer his mind elsewhere.

what he comes up with: “you didn’t turn off the lights?”

“of course not, you fool.” donghyuk pokes him on the shoulder. “this is our punishment for being embarrassing.”

in direct contradiction to what he just said, donghyuk pulls their now shared blanket over their faces. normally mark would protest this sort of alternative, but his combined weariness and confusion towards the last half hour leaves him sort-of tolerant.

“okay,” he says, too tired for a real quip. he closes his eyes, but not without first reaching over to give donghyuk’s nose a small pinch. a product of his own delirium, one he may or may not remember enough to regret when he wakes up. “g'night.”

donghyuk doesn’t say anything for a moment. mark wishes that he could open his eyes again to gauge his reaction, but that’s too much to ask for at this point.

“good night, you buffoon,” replies his neighbor. he can barely hear it when donghyuk gently adds: “i like you around too.”

mark falls asleep before he can come up with something adequate to say, or even tell him that they could watch a movie sometime later if he wanted. but that’s okay. maybe it’ll be his turn to throw a bone his way tomorrow.


End file.
